Happily Ever After
by Chichimeca Pear
Summary: Hatter/Scarecrow. Jonathan learns the hard way that one should never mock the sanctity of fairytales.


**Title:** Happily Ever After

**Pairing:** Mad Hatter/Scarecrow

**Rating:** R, for non-con and ruthless mindfuckery

**Word Count:** 3,430

**Summary:** Jonathan learns the hard way that one should never mock the sanctity of fairytales.

**Author's Notes:** This is my first "serious" fanfic ever. ("Serious" meaning I actually poured my heart and soul into it.) Here's hoping my heart and soul have substance.

Jonathan gave the decrepit house in front of him one last look-over before knocking on the door. He had little desire to be here, and even the curiosity that had compelled him to accept the Mad Hatter's invitation began to wither away by the second. Jervis had stated in his letter that their meeting tonight was to be a business-like affair, something that required Crane's expertise in an area, so Jonathan had seen no need to wear his scarecrow attire. However, in case things got ugly, he had taken it upon himself to carry a decoy pen filled with fear toxins in the front pocket of his shirt. Really, it was only the Mad Hatter he was dealing with, asserted Jonathan. The man would hardly be a threat with his fairytale mind thrown into chaos.

His schemes were suddenly forced into the back of his mind as an overly enthusiastic Hatter threw open the door.

"Well, if it isn't my muse!" exclaimed Jervis, clapping his hands. "Come in!" He ushered him hurriedly out of the cold and into the vast dining area. _Muse? Well, _that's_ a new one._ "Have a seat, won't you? Maybe a spot of-"

"NO, thank you," Jonathan declined coldly, sitting himself down without a care for grace or pretense. "You must think me an utter IDIOT to fall for your little tea tricks."

"Really, Jonathan, I'm hurt," Jervis replied, undermining his words with a smile. "But perhaps it's for the best; we've little time to spare. Now-" he scurried a short distance to get himself a chair and sat down somewhat near Jonathan. "-I trust you'll want some explanations as to why I require your presence."

"Indeed I do," snapped Jonathan, examining his nails to avoid Jervis's eyes. He couldn't recall a time when he hadn't seen those eyes full of glossy excitement and madness. There was nothing subtle about the man in appearance or mindset, and Jonathan hated nothing more than people who paraded themselves for attention.

"You'll be pleased to know, then," began the Hatter, "that I have a unique treat in store for you. You could call it a... distraction of sorts! From the monotonous chores of a criminal. Isn't that simply _frabjous_?" He jumped with glee at his own words.

Jonathan cocked a thin eyebrow and tore his gaze away from his fingernails. _Business my ass._ "You mean to tell me," he nearly growled, "that I'm simply wasting my time here, with _you_ no less, when I could be out, laying claim to a legacy of terror that is rightfully mine?"

Jervis neither flinched nor blinked. "Yes. And no."

Jonathan shook his head and laughed in disbelief. _How dare he do this to you,_ whispered the Scarecrow in his ear._ Your time is precious and should not be sullied with trivial affairs. He has just murdered five minutes of your time. I say you claw his eyes out._ Jonathan felt exactly as his inner voice did, but some force he could not readily identify kept both of his personalities at bay. Was this the work of a masochistic curiosity, perhaps? Maybe, if they were lucky.

"Well." Jonathan, for all of his eloquence, could not put into words just how, how… _stupid_ this all was. How moronic he felt for allowing himself to cooperate with the Hatter once again, even though past experiences should have given him impetus to sever all ties with him. And he didn't even want to get started on the nature of the Hatter himself. Genius though he was, the man was immensely out of touch with reality, and he had never properly acknowledged said flaw. That, Jonathan concluded, was the stupidest thing of all.

"Lost for words, I see." The Hatter grinned. "I'll take over from here. Now," he said, pushing his chair aside and rising with a sort of eccentric dignity, "you may be wondering why oh why I addressed you…" he made a swooping gesture with his hands in Jonathan's direction, "…as my muse. Simple, really, don't even know why I'm explaining it to someone of your mental aptitude, but I feel that I must for clarity's sake. I have to confess that, though we have our differences, I find myself enamoured of your work, and as a result, I have decided to deviate slightly from my field of study… into your branch of science."

"Oh, really? Fascinating," yawned Jonathan, growing bored with the topic already.

"Yes, yes, I suppose it is," beamed the Hatter. "But I do pride myself on being a madcap of all trades. So one day, as I was rifling through the pages of my previous research, I thought to myself, 'Jervis, old chap, where _is_ Jonathan these days? Being a man of invention, surely he'd know how to remedy artist's block.' And so you did for me, without even being present! Truly…" He pulled his lips over those faint buckteeth into the beginnings of another maddening grin. "You are a _most_ extraordinary inspiration. You do know that, don't you?"

There was something about Jervis's words (and the way he said them) that made Jonathan, yes, even him, the stalwart Scarecrow, shudder faintly. Loathing, repulsion, and fear suited Jonathan just fine, but admiration was something that caught him off guard. Should he be flattered? Suspicious? Disturbed? He decided to apply all three while giving off his standard air of apathy.

"Hm, now that you mention it, I suppose I am," he replied. "So, get on with it. You said yourself that we haven't got any time to lose."

"Of course not! Silly me." The Hatter shook his head, sat down, and continued. "Well, as I pondered this further, I had to simplify a few things. Quite a bit. And I came to the conclusion that you, for a living, basically create false hells in the minds of your victims. Why, then, shouldn't the inverse ring true?"

At last, Jonathan's interest was piqued, and he could barely conceal the fact, though he tried. "You mean… creating false paradises?"

Jervis gave Jonathan the kind of smile a teacher gives a slow student who is just catching on. "Ex_act_ly."

Curious despite his better judgment, Jonathan kept listening.

"I was able to acquire and tinker with some of the chemicals you primarily use in your work. I shan't bore you with the details, but I made quite a remarkable discovery. When manipulated and mixed up just so, a wildly euphoric state is attained for the user, and not just in the mind's eye…" he opened his arms, welcoming home the words that would surely intrigue even the stoic Dr. Crane, "…but for the senses, as well. It deceives the mind into believing that they are also within… a fairytale." He looked terribly pleased with himself.

Crane, however, was more concerned with another matter. "And _whom_ did you test these on?"

"My lonesome self, of course," replied the Hatter, sounding disappointed.

"You mean to tell me," said Jonathan, "that you used your_self_ as a guinea pig? Well, by golly, I've heard everything now."

"Actually, my dear friend, you haven't." Jervis's mood made an unexpected shift from sociable to stern. "You see, when I realized that I could gain a happiness long denied me, at least temporarily, I was not going to let fear or even common sense stand in my path. As you probably have already assumed," he said, giving Jonathan a knowing look, "I seldom go about my life in such a way."

"Uh-_huh_." Jonathan mulled over the Hatter's words for a moment, but then decided he was unimpressed. Irked beyond measure, even. "Jervis," he said, rising from his seat. "I'm so grateful for your time. Really." He wasn't. "But as fascinating a discovery as this is, let's face it…" He looked his host square in the eye. "You're already living in a fairytale. A hideous, mangled fantasy-world in which _you_ are the sole character. What good can that be?" He threw his gnarled, thin hands over his head for emphasis. "I mean, _Jesus_, Tetch! I might, _might_ be able to sympathize with you, if only you would wake the hell up and face reality! But for now, not a chance. I-I can hardly believe I let you dupe me into coming here-"

Jervis grew more and more livid with every word uttered. A monstrous buzzing filled his ears and his face darkened several shades of red. His large teeth gritted together and he didn't even bother to pay heed to the diatribe spouting from Jonathan's mouth. Listening further would have sent him over the brink. He then decided that his guest had gone too far and needed to be taught a lesson.

Jonathan closed his eyes and continued to rant and rave, finding it so much easier to insult the comically tragic man in front of him when he wasn't within his path of vision. Jervis saw this as his opportunity to reach into his pocket and produce a small spray bottle. He shook its contents for a second and then let it loose in Jonathan's face with more gusto than intended. Jonathan breathed in the noxious vapors and coughed violently, yelling obscenities when his breath would allow and reaching into his own pocket. Jervis was quick to notice his actions, however, and grabbed the pen before Jonathan's hands could take hold of it, throwing it across the room and smirking with satisfaction.

"I won't be the only character for long, my dear," the Hatter murmured through his teeth.

The room quickly began to fade before Jonathan's recovering eyes. The walls stripped themselves of normalcy and blossomed forth with an array of colors and patterns that strained his very senses to take in. His concept of everything he knew and accepted as being true flittered away on the wings of abstract butterflies. The only sound, besides the rushing in his head, was the faint _sprit_, _sprit_ of the offensive brew spraying elsewhere in the room... the room? _There was no room._ In its place stretched on for miles a hologram-like ghost of the great outdoors, outlined in garish colors and accentuated with all manner of false flora and fauna. A dainty tea table, perfectly set and awaiting company, lay somewhere near him. Jonathan clutched his swimming head and stumbled in the direction of where he assumed the Hatter to be.

"JERVIS!" he screeched, balling his fists against his sides until nails dug into flesh. "What the _fuck_ have you done to me?!"

The Hatter materialized, seemingly from thin air, and leisurely strolled up to Jonathan.

"Once upon a time," he recited, reaching out to straighten Jonathan's talon-like hands. "There was a young man who didn't know how to hold his tongue. That is, until one day, a certain gracious hatter was kind enough to teach him..."

Jonathan smacked his hand away. His chest was heaving with an unmitigated rage that reflected in his eyes. He had no trouble displaying his anger, but he wasn't about to let on that he felt completely disoriented. Jervis's face blurred and sharpened again in perspective, smile stretching on like the prismatic horizon.

"Very well, then," said the Hatter, who couldn't yet contain the pleasure he derived from having the upper hand. He walked around Jonathan, circling him to emphasize his point, the emerald grass cracking softly underfoot like small jewels shattering.

"Everything you see is farce," Jervis explained, gesturing roundly. "But it matters not. Fantasy is tantamount to reality if you believe enough. I admit, it's far from perfect, but that's the beauty of it. Who wants perfection when one can watch one's project evolve from conception to completion?"

Those words, where had he heard them before? So big, so new. His impressionable mind would not, could not accept them.

"I... I'm sorry?"

"Oh, I _forgot_ to mention!" Jervis clapped his hands to his mouth before explaining, "I'm afraid, my friend, that you'll have no use for your profession here. A special dosage of the medicine you were so keen on mocking has seen to that." He ran a finger gently across Jonathan's temple and prodded his skull as if he wanted to feel the gray matter within. He smiled in anticipation of his next words. "You're returning to your… how shall I say this? Your natural naiveté, your inborn childlike curiosity as we speak, albeit for a short time. Forgetting the world and all its woes, all for the sake of this grand adventure! How does it _feel_, Jonathan?" he asked out of genuine scientific curiosity.

Jonathan could see in his mind a myriad of images flashing by, of medical supplies, crucified scarecrows, pretty feminine faces, rodents in flight, encyclopedias, silent films, all melting and dripping down his brain stem and into his toes. Clutter, gone. Room to breathe in the fresh air, sweeter than honey.

"It feels…"

Jonathan blinked his eyes. Everything so bright. New. Amusing. His arms felt light. He lifted them to the sky and smiled. Anything to please.

"…_pretty_."

"So very true. Now..." Jervis tented his hands. "If you want to get home, you'll be a good boy and cooperate with me, won't you?"

"Yes. I... I miss my family. I miss my friends." Jonathan frowned. "I only have a few. But they're nice to me."

"_Very _nice, I'm sure," agreed Jervis, nodding emphatically. "We have that in common, I believe. Save for a few faithful friends, we're both quite lonely in this life."

Scarecrow suddenly appeared in miniature form on Jonathan's shoulder and whispered in his ear, "You idiot. Where's your sense of dignity? You never let another human being treat you this way. You're above it. I'm above it. I won't let you-"

Jervis noticed the pesky straw entity on Jonathan's shoulder and flicked it carelessly aside. He grinned. "He won't bother you while I'm around."

Jonathan smiled dully. "Th-thank you. Now, um, how do I get...?"

"Home? Ah, yes." Jervis looked sad for a moment, then brightened, smile flashing white and manic. "If you'll just do one thing for me, I think I can allow you to return. All I ask is that you join me for tea."

"Tea?" Jonathan smiled again, the light of recognition twinkling in his eyes this time. "I like tea. Mommy used to make it..." he paused. "Back when Mommy was nice."

Jervis threw an arm around Jonathan's shoulder and lead him to the table, nodding sympathetically all the way. "Grown-ups. They haven't an ounce of pity for the young. But I, however..." he smiled, (_Why is the Hat-man smiling so much? No, Scarecrow, stop tugging my shoe, I don't want to talk to you_-), "...am better-suited to relate to them, I do believe," and then he lifted Crane's willowy frame in the air and twirled him around once before setting him on the edge of the table.

"Don't you think this is a silly place to sit?" chuckled Jonathan, legs dangling idly. "I thought this was a tea par-"

He was cut short by an urgent kiss that made his eyes bug wide. Jonathan wasn't sure what to make of the sudden move, but he could hardly pin down a proper reaction in his current mental state. So he tried to speak in inarticulate protest. Nothing but muffles.

The Hatter broke the kiss and looked searchingly into Jonathan's face, seeking out... well, anything, really. Had he found a sign of proper intelligence, he would have been discontent, but fortunately, his now dull-minded victim was far from reaching such cognitive heights. Jonathan blushed darkly and tried to hide his face in his hands, but Jervis only persisted- _no, stop it, stop it, I want to go home_- and yet with each kiss, he found himself wanting to stay more and more. He felt warm and vibrant, although he hadn't the slightest clue what "vibrant" even meant anymore. _Shaky-like and full of colors._ Yes, that's how he felt...

Jervis immediately put his hands to work, first pulling off his gloves before toying with the fabric of Jonathan's clothing. Elegant fingers roamed light trails up narrow thighs and tickled up his torso. _Just setting the scene, of course. We can't always go around rushing things so._ But then again, he was pressed for time, so he sped things up by swiftly unzipping Jonathan's pants and forcing his hand inside.

Jonathan let out a gasp of shock at the sudden contact. He then felt deeply embarrassed and bit down on his lip, much to the amusement of the Hatter.

"Ohh, now don't do that," Jervis cooed, mirroring the soft tone of his voice with velvet-smooth strokes. "I need to know if I'm doing this right. I haven't had a playmate to practice with in _such_ a long time."

Jonathan nodded vaguely and shut his eyes, tilting his head back slightly and allowing the gentle moans to spill out of his mouth like warm liquid. _Tea. I like this tea party._ Jervis suddenly moved his fingers just so over a sensitive area, causing Jonathan to let out a sound almost like a squawk, and the poor dolt giggled with abandon. He could let go! It was, after all, a social event.

"Can I... _annnhh_... can I have... dessert next?" asked Jonathan. His mind buzzed in harmony, in tandem with the excruciating physical pleasure. It felt so good, he was afraid he'd fall from his peak and crash, down down, like a clumsy egg. He didn't want to come down for ages, but he had to eventually.

"Of course you can," whispered Jervis throatily. "Sweeter than you've ever tasted before."

Not wanting to be left out of the grand finale, Jervis kissed Jonathan for as long as his lungs would permit, and then finally pulled back to allow Jonathan to half-sob, half-scream in ecstasy, releasing into Jervis's hand with a shudder.

As Jonathan sank down from his high, he became overwhelmed by one of the worst feelings he had ever experienced. The instant he was spent, he felt his eyes well up with tears, but he couldn't pinpoint why. Tears of joy? For a second he would have thought so, until his mind collided with the firm wall of his skull, and recollections of every foul breed bled from the resulting mental wound.

Jervis watched with morbid fascination as his victim collapsed into a heap on the table, loins exposed, head buried in his hands. The thin man's bones trembled with an unnamable distress, echoing the freshly born terrors that danced circles around his mind. The shorter man smiled, taking in the gloriously degrading sight and licking the palm of his hand. He offered a taste to the broken man in front of him, but was met only with violent shivers and sobs. He shrugged and wiped the rest of the sticky residue on the tablecloth.

"Ohh, dear, you mustn't cry so," Jervis consoled mockingly. "I thought we were having such _fun_."

Jonathan barely listened as his mind raced and every piece of hideous knowledge he had previously forgotten rushed to the scene of his mental injuries, at once healing and damaging his sanity. He was himself once more, but not in the manner he had wanted or expected. The brightness of the fairytale world receded into dark interior designs, and the inner child previously released into the open was once again sent back as a prisoner within his ribs.

Jervis closed the distance between them, his face only inches from Jonathan's.

"_Now_ do you understand," he asked, startlingly collected, "what it's like to be in a position such as mine? In this life, we are handed high promises of happiness and fulfillment. They may not be stated in so many words, but they are indelibly tied in with myths, stories," he broke into a vicious grin, "and _fairytales_. Although such promises may seem unattainable to persons saner than we, alas, this humble hatter simply cannot abandon the search for Wonderland..." He took the other man's tear-stained face into his hands and whispered, "…or his Alice."

Without his strength, dignity, or toxins, Jonathan was hardly a threat, his chaotic mind thrown into fantasy no less. The Mad Hatter saw no need to force the man from his abode and instead allowed the wretch to cry himself to sleep on the table.

As Jervis exited the room, a hoarse, almost defeated-sounding voice, the voice of a wounded mental extension, whispered in the back of Jonathan's mind, _You let him hurt you. You let him hurt _me_. I hope you've enjoyed your just desserts. God knows you've earned them well._


End file.
